


Shift the Tide

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Smut, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick craves having someone close again, and the way Negan's always touching him during his weekly pickups in Alexandria only makes things harder on him.





	Shift the Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt for a touch-starved Rick (he and Michonne don't get together) and Negan being oh-so-nice and helping him out until it escalates into domestic fluff.

After the night they met the Saviors, Rick starts getting the cold shoulder.

It’s not intentional- not on everyone’s accounts, anyway. They’re all just wrecked. Daryl spends most of his time out on long runs with Aaron, and Rick knows that he's hoping to find the still-missing Carol and Morgan while he's out there. Maggie and Sasha are gone, off to the Hilltop to get Maggie the medical care she needs. Not long after, Enid follows, and that’s around the time that Carl starts pulling away, too. Selfishly, pitifully, Rick wonders if that was a long time coming- his little boy, all grown up too soon for his liking. He takes it hard, the way Carl up and leaves the house with barely a “bye, dad.” How he doesn’t hug him like he used to. He wants to chalk it all up to Carl becoming a teenager, growing up and away from him, but another part of him can’t help but wonder if he did something to drive him away. If Carl, like some of the others, blames him for what happened that night.

He can’t blame Rosita for avoiding him. She’s angry, hurting- he gets that, respects it. But he sees the way she finds comfort in Tara, in Michonne, and can’t help the knot of jealousy that tightens in his chest.

He misses  _people_. With of half his group mad at him and the other half recoiled into themselves and licking their wounds or just straight up  _gone_ , he feels utterly alone. He misses the way he and Michonne would bump shoulders as they walked side by side, how Daryl would slap his shoulder, how Glenn and Maggie would playfully shove him and squeeze his arm, how Carol would push his hair out of his face and pat his cheek like an affectionate older sister.

And, even deeper down, in an part of him that hasn’t been stirred by another person in so long, he misses intimacy. The feeling of someone touching him purposefully, longingly. Fingers laced between his own, arms around his waist, the warmth of a body curled up beside his at night. It’s been so, so long since he’s slept beside someone, excluding the times when he’s been out on the road and they all slept in close quarters out of necessity.

He misses sex. Misses warm, soft lips against his own, trailing downward. He wants the weight of another person on top on him, grounding him, keeping him sane. Or someone beneath him, holding on tight and keeping him tethered.

He feels like a man starving, so when Negan shows up for the first pickup, his arm slinging casually around Rick’s shoulders as they walk so closely in tandem, he can’t help it. For the briefest, barest moment, even amid the fear and anger and guilt he feels, he tenses under the touch, and it’s not out of disgust.

It feels good. Negan’s hip is bumping his own and he’s so  _warm_. For a second, he forgets where he is and whose body he’s pressed against, and just enjoys it.

And then, of course, Negan’s voice jars him out of it.

“Earth to Rick! You still with me, prick?”

His whole body jerks, wild and startled like a baby deer. He skitters out from Negan’s hold and tries to right himself, regaining his composure and straightening up, shoulders squared. The rest of the time Negan’s there, he maintains an adamant six-inch gap between them at all times. If that means stumbling away when the taller man leans up into his space, so be it.

He prays Negan doesn’t notice, but even as he’s pleading, he knows it’s in vain. The man’s eyes follow him hungrily, a wildcat stalking its pray. It’s downright unnerving.

* * *

It goes on like that for another week, with him dodging Negan’s touch and pulling away. Negan can’t possibly know why, not when the simplest explanation- that Rick simply doesn’t want to be manhandled by the person who murdered his friends- is right there in front of him. But still, the way Negan watches him, tongue darting out to wet his lips, white teeth flashing- he feels paranoid, itchy. He shuffles his feet, tugs at his collar, sweat prickling at his hairline.

It’s during the third pickup that Negan seems to have had enough.

He corners Rick in the pantry while Olivia is showing the rest of the Saviors to their tribute. All but backs him up into a shelf of canned corn and lima beans to get in close.

“ _Rick_ ,” his voice is a purr, meant to be seductive. Rick just thinks of the wildcat behind Negan’s eyes and feels like a mouse. “I think you and I got off on the wrong fucking foot. You’ve been antsy around me, and I don’t want that. We could be pals, you and me.” Rick almost laughs at that- the absurdity of it, the  _audacity_. Negan at least has the sense to correct himself. “Maybe not best fucking friends, but we could do better than this jumpy shit, at least. I know I killed two of your men, and that means we probably won’t ever sit around braidin’ each other’s hair and shit, but we can at least be civil.”

He reaches out then, long fingers pushing through Rick’s hair, fingertips rubbing down from his scalp to the curling ends, and Rick’s breath hitches. He feels his face heat up, and thrice damns himself and Negan because  _how the hell does this man know just how to play him?_

Negan winds a curl around his finger, grinning. “Probably could braid your hair, it’s so long,” he muses. His thumb brushes Rick’s cheek- on accident, he tells himself, but the damage is done, because Rick’s already turned his face into the contact. And if Negan hadn’t noticed that, he definitely catches on when Rick jerks his head away a moment later, his face warm and shamed.

Negan simply watches him, fascinated. He moves forward- so close that Rick can feel the heat radiating off of him, the rub of his calf against Rick’s own. There’s a flash of tongue, wetting his lips, and Rick’s fascinated by the little glistening of wetness against the soft pink. He can feel himself sweating and wishes he could just chalk it up to the heat.

A droplet runs down the side of his neck, over his collarbone and down underneath the collar of his shirt. He watches Negan’s eyes follow it, and when the man’s leather-clad finger reaches up and tugs Rick’s shirt collar to the side, he chokes, sweaty fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. It barely exposes anything- a couple inches below his collarbone, but he feels absolutely stripped.

The gloved finger collects the droplet, smearing it, and for a single horrifying moment Rick catches himself thinking  _I wish he didn’t have that glove on-_

Negan smirks. “You sweat awful easy, Rick. And you get all red like you are right now. Why is that? You gotta be used to the heat, right? From that pretty drawl you got goin’ on, you must be from further south than this, am I right?” He doesn’t let Rick answer. “And hell, you’re not wearin’ much. I mean, you got this shirt rolled up past your elbows, buttoned down nice and low-” the finger traces down the middle of Rick’s chest, stopping when it catches on the first button. Too low for Rick’s taste, and he makes a mental note to button his shirts higher from now on. “You got those tight jeans on, though,” he muses, eyes casting downward, and Rick suddenly wants to squeeze his legs together, shrink into himself. “Cling to you real nice. Must be sweatin’ a lot under those, huh?”

“Negan,” Rick says, surprisingly firm.

“You wear anything under them? Or do you go commando? Just let it all hang free-”

“ _Negan_ ,” Rick chokes, face and chest burning. “Stop.”

“Stop because you don’t want it, Rick?” Negan grounds out, “Or stop because you  _do?”_

* * *

Rick’s never felt like this before, like he’s being objectified. Negan strolls along beside him, gaze gliding over him, and Rick can  _feel_  it. For all his years, he’s never had anyone’s attention like this. He’s always been quiet, more timid. In high school, he lived vicariously through Shane, only managing to get to second base with a girl in an awkward fumble his senior year. She’d told him that she was more interested in his friend, and they’d parted ways never to speak of their sordid encounter again. The only person he’s ever been with is Lori, and theirs was a sweet love, a shy one at first, one whose heat and passion came from love and trust.

With Negan, it’s all lust. It’s all lingering stares at his ass and hands that dip a little too low on the small of his back and the man towering over him, smirking in that smarmy way of his. When he’s beside Negan, he feels utterly on display, overthinking every move he makes and trying to figure out if what he’s doing is being read as arousing by the other man. He’ll catch these looks sometimes- Negan doesn’t even bother to hide them- and he finally understands what it means to have someone undress you with their eyes. The way Negan’s hazel eyes darken says it all, and, shamefully enough, Rick finds scenes unfolding in his head as he’s led around Alexandria with a hand on his back, fingers playing with the hem of his slowly-becoming-untucked shirt. Negan, untucking his shirt completely. Negan, unbuttoning him slowly, fingers caressing newly bare skin. Negan, his hands reaching down to undo his belt, unzip his jeans, strip away Rick’s last defenses until he’s as bare as he feels.

It’s unsettling, frightening that he would even consider the thought. But that look in Negan’s eyes, like Rick is something worthwhile, something  _desirable_ , is food in Rick’s mouth, and he’s been starving for so long that he can’t stand upright. He’s weak for it, for the feeling of being wanted, being touched.

Shamefully, he finds himself leaning into it. Subtly as he can, like Negan’s the one who’s skittish and easy to startle. It’s the other way around entirely- Rick is a deer, unsteady on his feet in uncharted territory, and Negan is a wolf, ready to pounce if he catches the leaves rustling.

He goes with Negan easily, lets the man touch him, press hands to his back and arms, lets him lean in a hair too close for everything to be seen as strictly kosher. He falls for it every time, staring up into the man’s hazel eyes, licking his lips before he realizes that he’s doing it.

And the things that Negan  _says_  to him sometimes, when he’s pressed in so close so that Rick’s whole world is Negan. Filthy, degrading things that should make him want to smack the man stupid.

_You like this, Rick? You like me parading you around your cute-ass little town like you’re my fucking trophy wife?_

_Look good in that shirt, Rick. Look real fucking good, nice and tight. You stopped wearing those pretty button-ups when you’re around me- you still thinkin’ about last time? Oh, I bet you are. Bet you think about that a whole fucking lot. Lay in your bed at night, all nice and cozy, and think about me so hard you come all over yourself-_

He’s not wrong, and Rick hates himself for it. There have been so many nights when he’s laid alone, a hand working furiously between his legs while the other presses against his lips to keep the noise down. He’s tried thinking of others, trying to grasp onto little brushes of contact between him and someone else, someone who hasn’t come in and smashed his world to pieces.

It’s hard to focus on anyone else when they’re not the ones touching him, though. When nobody else looks at him twice, makes him wonder what it would be like to be beneath them.

* * *

“Where do you always send your little angel off to when I’m here? She never seems to be at your fucking house anymore when I stop by. You tryin’ to keep her from big bad Negan?”

Rick’s finger twitch around his glass of lemonade- Judith is a sore subject for him, as he  _has_  been actively trying to keep her away from Negan. She’s too young to understand that she’s not supposed to like him, not supposed to giggle when he makes goofy faces at her, not supposed to pull on his nose and want to try on his red bandana.

And Rick’s not supposed to feel a sudden rush of something sweet and confounding when he sees them together.

“She stays with Olivia during the day. Since I’m usually out on runs or workin’ in the gardens.” The gardens are a new addition, but one that’s been a long time coming. It had taken a handful of months to get them in working order, but there they are, looking like they’re going to keep them fed for a good long while. Even with the Saviors taking half their supplies, nobody’s been in fear of going hungry since the first batch of tomatoes and carrots bloomed.

Negan downs the rest of his glass, licks his lips, and Rick stares- catches himself wondering how Negan tastes mixed with the sweet tang of lemonade. They find themselves in Rick’s house a lot- Rick always tries to keep them in the kitchen, for safety.

He’s fantasized- more than once, more often than he’s comfortable with- about himself and Negan on the couch, leaning in close. About  _what-ifs_. As in,  _what if_  Negan was to lean into him, his weight pressing Rick down,  _what if_  he was to undo Rick’s clothes, undo him entirely, bare him on the couch and slide up between Rick’s thighs.

He can’t run the risk of his traitorous body giving into something like that, and he’s not sure that, if he had Negan surrounded by softness and pillows, he would make the dignified choice.

He takes Negan’s glass, soaps them in the sink, and then there’s suddenly a solid wall of heat behind him and he jerks violently, his whole body flushing hotly, and one of the cups in his hand drops and shatters.

“Fuck-” he awkwardly scrambles to collect the jagged pieces and warm hands slide over his hips, making him jolt all over again. It’s too much, the touch too similar to the way he’s pictured Negan having him before, and he swears again as the broken glass slices into his skin, blood welling up from his fingers and spattering the metal sink.

“You alright there, Rick?” Negan sounds amused as he turns into him. He catches sight of Rick’s bloody fingers and seems to soften at the edges, taking Rick’s hand between his own in a surprisingly kind gesture. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m sorry,” he purrs, lifting the fingers to his lips. Rick flushes at the pet name- Negan tosses them out from time to time, just to see him squirm- and it only worsens when the man takes the cut finger into his mouth, teeth scraping lightly on the way in.

Rick’s breath hitches at the sight of Negan’s lips- just as soft as they look- closing around his finger, at the feeling of a warm, wet tongue swirling around the digit, lapping up the blood. “ _Negan_.”

The hand that isn’t holding Rick’s wrist steady is still on his waist, rubbing warmly over his hip, teasing the hem of his t-shirt. Rick doesn’t realize that he’s clutching at Negan’s sides as well until the warm hand slips underneath his shirt, skimming over his bare flesh.

He and Negan both inhale sharply, and Rick takes some comfort in knowing that he’s not the only one that’s shaken up.

Negan releases his finger, kissing the wet tip of it, and the gesture from him seems obscene.

He’s so close, his legs braced against Rick’s, and somehow, Rick already knows what’s coming next.

“How long has it been, Rick?” he whispers directly into his ear, electricity shooting up Rick’s spine. “I find it fucking hard to believe that you don’t have a fuckin’ line of people down the block wanting to take you for a spin. Can't have been  _too_  long.”

That prods at something raw and messy inside of Rick, and he drops his eyes. He doesn’t want to be forced to say it aloud, to admit that nobody wants him. It’s ridiculous, he thinks, that he should be so ashamed of it. He’s got baggage, that much he knows- a slurry of insecurity stemming from everything that happened with Lori and Shane so long ago- from before that, even, if he’s being honest. Deeply ingrained since his fumbling high school years when he’d gotten his cheap thrills through the sordid tales from his more confident best friend, that question that he tried to bury when he put Shane down.

_Am I not enough?_

Negan presses in closer, warm and unyielding. “Works out good for me, I guess.” Rick’s head jerks up, so close to Negan’s that their mouths nearly meet in the process. “I know you see the way I look at you, Rick. I  _know_  you know what I want.” His grin is hungry, and it lights Rick’s insides on fire. “And I see the way  _you_  look at me. I feel the way you fucking lean into me when I touch you, baby. I’ve seen you get hard for me, squirm against it in your fucking tight-ass jeans.  _Fuck_ ,” he growls, arms bracing against the counter on either side of Rick’s body. “You know how fucking  _hot_  that is, Rick? How fucking frustrating it is to watch that bulge in your pants get bigger for me and yet you never fucking  _do_  anything about it?”

Rick grits his teeth. “I think you can probably understand  _why_ I don’t, Negan.”

“Doesn’t have to  _mean_  anything, Rick,” Negan says, cupping his face. “You need something. Need it real bad, by the look of it. If you’re gettin’ hard just off me throwing a couple fucking dirty words your way, it’s got to have been a long fucking time since you’ve gotten laid out real good. And I can give that to you, Rick.” He grins, a cheshire smile. “I will rock your fucking  _world_ , baby. I know you gotta be tired of takin’ care of yourself.”

He is. Fuck, he  _is_.

“You want me. I want you. That’s all this has to be.”

“You liked this, don’t you, Rick? Like it when I do this?” Negans fingers trail up his forearm again, outlining muscle and leaving trail of heat in their wake. Rick bites his lip, forcing himself to not drop his eyes, and Negan eats it right up.

“What about this?” He muses, hands moving further up, over Rick’s biceps and resting there, daring to rub. “Got nice arms, Rick. You stay in shape like this just goin’ out on runs and shit? Or you got a fucking gym in this quaint-ass little town of yours?” The thought seems to amuse him. “Can’t just be from runs. You’ve gotta be doing somethin’ else. You do push ups?” His eyes rake over Rick’s body in a way that’s absolutely shameless, making Rick flush more deeply. “Yeah. Bet you do. All the fuckin’ pent up energy from not gettin’ any’ gotta go somewhere, right?”

Rick stiffens at that, wondering how he  _knows_ , how he can state it with such confidence without Rick having ever confirmed it. If it’s that obvious, his desperation written all over his body like a scarlet letter.

“Yeah, that’s right. I know you’re going to bed alone every night, Rick. I asked around, made sure of that shit because I couldn’t  _fucking_  believe it. Rick fucking Grimes, blue eyed bombshell, leader of  _the great town of Alexandria_ , only fuckin’ his fist. I thought so, with the way you act around me, but I had a hard time believing it was true.”

The hands have slid up further, over his shoulders, down his back. The nails drag, and even through the worn fabric of his shirt it makes Rick shudder. Negan’s face is the picture of smug triumph.

“What’s it matter to you?” Rick bites out. It’s a stupid question, really. He’s just setting himself up to be tormented because they both know the answer.

“Oh, I think you fucking know why it matters to me, Rick.” Negan’s hands slide around to his waist again, and all Rick can think is  _will he go lower?_

There’s a leg between his own suddenly, pressing up into the arousal that’s swelled there, and Rick chokes on his words.

“Tell me yes. You can tell me no if you don’t want it, but I know you fucking do. So say it. Fucking  _say_  it, Rick.”

The “yes,” tumbles out of him before he can stop it, and then Negan's on him, all hands and mouth. He can’t focus on one for the other, completely overwhelmed- one moment he’s licking into Negan’s mouth, the next he’s too distracted by Negan’s hands kneading his ass through his jeans that it’s all he can do just to stay standing.

He’s the one that drags Negan by the lapels of his jacket up the stairs and kicks his bedroom door closed behind them, and that’s something he’ll have to live with once this is over.

Negan’s down nothing so fast that Rick can hardly keep up, and then the man is behind him, one palm under his shirt and flat against his breastbone while the other yanks open his belt. “Take your clothes off, Rick. Come on. Let me fucking see you. I’ve been thinking about getting you naked for months, don’t you  _dare_  keep me waiting any fucking longer.”

A pleased thrill goes through Rick at that- knowing that someone,  _anyone_ , has been wanting him for so long. Negan helps him with his shirt, watches with his chin hooked over Rick’s bare shoulder as his jeans come off and his swollen cock springs up, needy and eager for the attention that Negan’s all too willing to give.

Negan grinds against Rick’s naked backside, reaches an arm around his waist to thumb at the wet slit of his cock, drawing an impatient, keening noise out of Rick. “God _damn_ , look at that. Fucking selfish, keeping this to yourself, Rick. Don’t you believe in sharing?”

Rick practically snorts at that. “You really wanna start talkin’ about which one of us has trouble  _sharing_ , Negan?”

When he’s shoved roughly onto the bed, he makes a pitiful sound and Negan smirks, triumphant and gloating. “No, I guess I don’t.” He sees the way Rick immediately rises to his knees to reach for him, desperate for touch now that he’s gotten it. “You miss me, Rick?” He teases, but folds himself back into Rick’s arms anyway, settling his weight on top of him and pressing him down, and Rick lets himself drown in it.

“Want you close,” he says shamelessly. “C'mon, Negan, all these months you’ve been drivin’ me up the damn wall, can’t keep your hands off me. Well, now I’m tellin’ you I want them. Put them on me.  _Fuck_  me, Negan.”

“You gettin’ a little big for your britches there, sheriff? Wanna boss me around?” Negan chuckles, but in spite of his teasing words he obediently rubs his hands up Rick’s bare thighs. “I was pretty goddamn sure that  _I_  was gonna be the one takin’  _you_  for a spin, but if you wanna wrestle me for it and try to get your cute ass on top, I’m not gonna say no.”

Rick clings to him, guiding the man’s head down to his chest, shame and decency long gone. Negan’s mouth is insatiable, predictably, and Rick arches up into him when wet warmth closes over a sensitive nipple. “Just told you I want you to fuck me, Negan.”

“So you fucking did, baby. Maybe next time you’ll fight me for it, huh?” Rick’s eyes widen at that-  _next time_ \- but he doesn’t have time to think too hard on it because Negan’s tongue flicks out against the hardened nub and Rick groans, toes curling.  _Fuck_ , even something as simple that is so good that it leaves him writhing on the sheets.

Negan nuzzles into the hair trailing down beneath Rick’s navel. “You got lube, or…?”

He does. He shyly presses it into Negan’s waiting hands, and finds himself flipped onto his belly, thighs spread wide. “You needy little slut,” Negan croons as his fingers rub across Rick’s tight opening. “You finger yourself, Rick? You think about me splitting you open on my cock while you bury your fingers in  _here?_ ” His fingers sink inside, and Rick slurs his affirmation into the sheets, pushing his hips back for  _more_. The digits inside him stroke and curl and scissor him, and Negan’s free hand lands on Rick’s ass, pulling him open. “ _Fuck_ , look at that. Takin’ my fingers like you were born to do it, Rick. So good for me.”

“How do you want it, Rick?” Negan asks when the fingers disappear. He’s practically lying on top of Rick, his weight trapping him down, and Rick’s almost ashamed to ask for it how he wants, almost tells Negan to just take him on his belly like this, because the thought of giving Negan any more ammunition again him is nearly unbearable.

 _Nearly_.

He rolls over, pushes Negan up to sit and crawls into his lap. Negan’s arms come up to cradle him in an embrace almost instinctively, and Rick kisses at his jaw, the crook of his shoulder. “Like this. Want you like this.” He grits his teeth at the soft neediness in his voice. “Fuck me like this,” he says more boldly.

He just wants to be close. Wants to be touched. Wants everything Negan’s willing to give him.

Thankfully, Negan doesn’t throw out mocking words about how Rick wants to cuddle and kiss while they fuck. His eyes darken with lust, and he squeezes Rick’s hips encouragingly. “You wanna sit in my lap and bounce on my cock? Fine by me, Rick. I’m not fucking picky as long as I’m inside you.”

When Rick sinks down on Negan’s slick cock, he moans loudly, head thrown back while Negan sucks at the bared skin of his throat. Negan grips at his ass, holds him open for a better glide down.

“ _Goddamn_ , Rick.” Rick takes a bit of pride in hearing how strained Negan sounds right now. “You’ve been holding out on me. All these months we were stompin’ around and glaring and fucking knocking into each other, and we could’ve been knocking boots instead.”

It’s good. It’s so fucking good that Rick can’t think straight as they rock together, his hands clutching at Negan’s back, sliding up to wind into his hair, while Negan holds him close like he knows exactly what Rick wants, what he  _needs_. Rick is stuffed full of him, shaking and sweating and groaning, and he feels utterly and completely wrecked as he rocks in the man’s lap, but he  _loves_  it.

“ _Fuck_ , Negan,” he growls as Negan sinks his cock into him up to the hilt over and over. “Oh, Christ.”

Negan holds him like a lover, his face buried into Rick’s neck, and Rick allows himself the mistake of pretending that’s what they are as his thighs wrap the man’s waist.

“Beautiful, so fuckin’  _gorgeous_ , Rick,” Negan’s dark eyes look almost warm, and somehow that feels more dangerous than anything else. “So good, baby.  _Jesus_ , you feel good.”

Rick takes every bit of the praise and swallows it up, wanting more. It’s been so long since he’s felt like this- wanted, worthwhile, cared for. To feel like this with Negan…it’s a joke, and he knows it. It’s cruel, that this man is the one building him up again when he’s the one who tore him down to begin with.

“Tell me,” Rick growls, rising and sinking in Negan’s lap, clenching tight around the thick shaft parting him. “Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

Negan grins up at him, snapping his hips and burying himself so deeply that it forces a ragged cry from Rick’s swollen lips. “You feel fucking  _divine_ , darlin’,” he praises, his hands roaming over Rick’s back, down his ass to give him a hungry little squeeze. “So damn tight, Rick. Wanna just fucking take you home with me and keep you in my bed. Tie you up and make sure you never fucking forget how goddamn gorgeous you are.”

Rick whines when Negan pulls him flush against his chest, tilts his hips and drives into him mercilessly, his cock sliding relentlessly over the sweet spot inside Rick with every thrust. Rick shakes, squirms in his arms, bites down on his shoulder to muffle the pathetic sounds coming out of him, his swollen cock rubbing up against the taught muscle of Negan’s belly, the way slicked by how much he’s leaking.

“Fuck, fuck, Negan, I’m close, don’t stop, don’t fucking  _stop_ -”

“Yeah?” Negan asks, holding him tight. “You gonna come all over yourself, Rick? You gonna come with my cock up inside you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he moans, sweaty fingers sliding against Negan’s back. “Yes, yes,  _fuck_ , I’m gonna come,  _please_ -”

He’s not sure what he’s begging for, but he finds it anyway in the pleasure that overtakes him, pulls him apart at the seams while Negan’s arms around him hold him tightly together. “That’s right, Rick,” Negan hums into his collarbone, “you fucking  _scream_  for me, baby.”

Rick hadn’t realized he had been.

Negan continues to rock up into him frantically, and Rick’s nerves feel like struck matches, burning down quickly and scorching him. The space between their bellies is slick with Rick's come, and everything is hypersensitive and intense. He feels each drag of Negan’s cock along his insides, feels how it parts him and fills him up. He feels like all of the energy in his body left with his orgasm, but he still bounces in Negan’s lap, clenches around him, wanting to see Negan come apart inside him so badly that it’s nearly a need. “C’mon, Negan,” he pants, gripping the man’s dark hair. “Give it to me. I want it. I fucking want it.”

And he gets it, Negan groaning throatily as he grips Rick’s hips fiercely and spills hot and wet inside of him. For a breathless moment after, he stays seated inside of Rick, clinging like their bodies have melded together.

He gives Rick one last wet kiss before sliding out, and Rick gets a filthy thrill from the feeling of Negan’s come dripping out of him and down his thighs.

Negan’s off the bed too quickly, going for his clothes, and Rick can’t have it. He reaches for him, catching his wrist and tugging him back. “Stay,” he says quietly, “just for a little while.”

Negan’s smirk is mocking. “You wanna  _cuddle_ , Rick? Pretend we’re lovers?”

Cringing, Rick lets the hand fall away, his face burning in shame. He’d forgotten who he’s talking to, let the predator lure him into a false sense of security. His own weakness chokes him, the noose around his throat, and he slides out of bed, dodging Negan’s eyes and grabbing for his clothes to cover himself.

He gets a shock when he’s dragged backwards into strong arms, held intimately against Negan’s bare chest.

“Sorry.” The word sounds a bit unpracticed coming from Negan’s lips- strained, but genuine. “I’m not- I can be a fucking asshole, Rick. You know that, though. Seen that shirt firsthand in the worst fucking way.” He turns Rick around in his arms, his expression piquing Rick’s curiosity- it’s a torn, uncertain look, and like the apology, it’s truthful but out of place on this self-assured man. “I don’t want it to be like that. Not when we’re like this. Don’t wanna fucking-” he scrubs a hand over his face, looking almost distressed that he can’t manage to scrounge up the right words, and it makes Rick want to laugh. “I don’t wanna be like that when we’re fucking.”

“Then don’t,” Rick says simply, and Negan laughs then, kissing him wet and open.

“You make it sound so fucking easy, Rick.”

“Never said it was gonna be easy,” Rick replies quietly- because it’s not. Nothing about this is easy. It’s not easy to let himself go, to let himself enjoy what Negan gives him. Not easy to forgive himself after, when he has to face his friends with the knowledge that he went to bed with the man who has them all under his thumb.

But it’s also not as hard as it should be.

* * *

Even with Negan’s assumption that their tryst wasn’t just a one-time deal, Rick still finds it in him to be surprised when it happens again. And then again and again, until it becomes almost normal.

It’s been such a long time since Rick’s been with an actual person- and even longer since he’s been able to go slow, take his time, explore and be explored like this. His last few times with Lori had been rushed, them coming together in the spare time they could- just a product of them having to share close quarters with other people and their son. He’d forgotten how it feels, barely even remembers what he likes until he feels Negan touch him in some new way.

He feels like he’s rediscovering something dusty and forgotten when he’s with Negan, something that he’d packed away into a box when Lori died- before that, even, if he’s being honest- and thought that nobody would ever want to touch again. He knows, of course, that his friends love him. That Michonne and Tara and Maggie and Daryl and Aaron all still care for him, despite how things went down all those months ago. Despite his mistakes and shortcomings. But none of them cared to unpack him like Negan has.

With Negan, he remembers what it is to be wanted, to feel desired and beautiful. He feels ridiculous sometimes, thinking that, but Negan never lets an encounter pass without telling him, over and over.

 _Beautiful, Rick. Fucking sexy, so fucking hot, fuck yeah, baby, strip for me like that. Goddamn, Rick, I could just eat you alive_.

All of Negan’s mocking melts away when they’re behind closed doors. He’s still Negan- he’s never quiet unless his mouth is being put to good use, head bracketed by Rick’s strong thighs- but there’s a surprising honesty to him when he’s bedding Rick that Rick finds almost as alluring as his touch. 

He always lingers after they’re done, lets himself be folded into Rick’s arms. Rick doesn’t mention it, but he thinks that maybe, just  _maybe_ , Negan craves the affection as much as he does. He knows the man’s not wanting for sex- he’s been open since the beginning about his wives back at the Sanctuary- but there’s something in the way Negan curls himself around Rick, possessive and unwilling to let go, that makes him think that his wives are subject to the same at-arm’s-length treatment that Rick’s observed the rest of the Saviors getting from Negan.

He’s in those arms now, head nestled in the crook of his neck as they come down together, overheated skin sticking them to each other. Negan’s kissing the damp curls at his temple, and not for the first time Rick wonders if the man actually likes the small, shared sweetness between them or if he’s only doing it for Rick’s sake.

_He knows that’s what you want. Doesn’t mean anything, he’s just making sure you keep comin’ back to him._

Negan’s fingers find Rick’s chin and he tips his face up toward him, eyes unreadable and searching. “You deserve better than this, Rick. Hope you fucking know that. How the hell you got to the point where you’re shackin’ up with the guy you want to kill is a goddamned mystery to me. Not that I  _mind_  fucking your brains right outta your pretty skull, baby.”

It’s a mystery to him, too. And how things have gotten like this…where Rick will sometimes entertain the idea of them doing more than just  _fucking each other’s brains out_. “Things haven’t been…” Rick swallows hard. “I’m not…I’m nothin’ special, Negan. Leadin’ people means you gotta make some tough calls. Make some enemies. I’m guessin’ you know a little something about how that goes.”

Negan frowns. “Being the leader means that you do what’s best for people, whether they fucking like it or not. If they don’t like it, fuck ‘em.” Yeah, he  _would_  say that. Rick’s seen where that’s gotten him, though- garnering renown through fear, his name synonymous with the bogeyman. “I’ve seen your crew, Rick. You got some good people here, some strong ones with good heads on their shoulders. But you’ve got a hell of a lot of loose cannons that think with their dicks or their vaginas or what-the-fuck-ever, and those people aren’t fit to be in charge.”

Rick laughs bitterly. “I got so desperate to get off that I’m fucking the guy who’s stealin’ from us every week. The guy who killed two of my friends.” He hates thinking about this- the implications of it all, the guilt of it. Being with Negan is easy right up until the point where it’s not, and that point is usually the walk of shame out of his front door after they’ve fucked nice and hard, Negan trailing behind him. “If anyone’s thinking with their dick around here, it’s me.”

Negan’s silent for a long minute before winding an arm tightly around Rick’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest. “You’re still fucking keeping shit going, Rick. You’ve got these people on your back giving you hell about every little choice you make. You deserve to unwind a little, don’t you think? Fuck off some of that pent-up energy.”

For all that Negan showers Rick with compliments when they're in bed together, he seems to be stumbling around this one. But Rick thinks he hears the intention beneath, has gotten pretty good at deciphering Negan's words in the time they've been together: _You're a good leader._  It's something that nobody's told him in a long,  _long_  time, and it means more to him than Negan knows.

“You’re the reason they’re giving me hell, you know.” Rick says quietly, and he feels how it makes Negan tense up. The man feels like bomb waiting to go off, and Rick, for whatever reason, keeps trying to light the fuse.

_Maybe because you know that if he goes off, that’ll be the end of all this and you can start trying to claw your way out of this grave that you’ve dug for yourself by being with him._

“I know,” Negan murmurs.

Maybe it’s just in Rick’s head, a product of wishful thinking, but he almost sounds remorseful. Before Rick can lend it too much thought, Negan’s cupping his jaw and looking him in the eye again. “And what was that shit you said- that you're nothing special? Fuck, Rick. What have I been telling you since we first met?  _You, sir, are_   _special_.”

* * *

Rick gets so used to Negan’s presence in Alexandria that he’s actually alarmed when the man misses a weekly pickup. No explanation, no word from him or the Saviors. Just…nothing. The rest of the citizens of Alexandria seem tentatively pleased, and rumors spread in the wake of the absence.

_Maybe some other group came through and killed them._

_Maybe their camp got overrun by the dead and they’re all lying gutted and bitten on the ground somewhere far away._

_Maybe they’re planning an attack so they can take this place over completely._

It's more important than it should be to Rick that none of those are true.

It’s with baited breath that they wait for the next week’s pickup. Rick feels antsy and on edge the whole week, and he doesn’t want to dig more deeply into the feeling to uncover if it’s due to relief or worry.

The Saviors show up, Negan at the helm, but Rick notices a few faces missing- the blonde man that Daryl always glares daggers at. The silent, stoic woman who acts like Negan’s bodyguard.

Negan looks so  _tired_. His face is grim and there are dark circles beneath his hazel eyes. Rick corners him, pulls him aside, and Negan’s already waving him off before he can ask. “I know. I fucking know we missed last week. Consider it some good fucking luck on your behalf.” In the privacy of Rick’s living room, away from all the people he’s in command of, Negan looks even wearier, and Rick can’t help but reach out to him, cup his face and try to read the exhaustion there.

“What happened?”

“Does it fucking  _matter_ , Rick?” Negan snaps. “We’re here now. We’re not gonna take more than our weekly share, so just count your lucky fucking stars and be goddamned thankful. You wanna make it up to me, you can get on your fucking knees and show me some appreciation.”

The words are all bark and no bite, and Negan looks so bone-tired that Rick just wants him to relax, so he obliges. Leads Negan to sit on the couch, undoes his pants and pulls them down enough to get his mouth around him. He feels clumsy, his hands rubbing at Negan’s thighs as he sucks and slurps and swallows, and he worries that he’s doing a shitty job because Negan’s unusually quiet, not pouring out his usual stream of praises as Rick blows him. He cranes his head to look up at him, mouth still stuffed full of Negan’s dick, and the man must see the question, the neediness in Rick’s eyes, because he softens, hands coming down to weave into Rick’s curls, stroking through his hair the way he knows Rick likes.

“You’re doing good, Rick. That’s real fucking good, just like that, baby. Got a nice fucking mouth on you. Can’t tell you how many times I thought about you like this, Rick. On your knees for me, those pretty pink lips wrapped around my dick.  _Fuck_ ,” he tugs at Rick’s hair, hunching over him when Rick takes him as far into his mouth as he can and then slides back, lapping at the head. “ _Fuck_ , Rick, I missed you so fucking much-”

Rick lets him come in his mouth, swallowing and swallowing and thinking that the taste isn’t too bad. Something he could get used to, certainly. Feeling Negan come apart in his mouth like that, spilling onto his tongue, makes his own cock throb, makes him feel powerful in an unexpected way.  _I can do that to him._

Negan pulls him up into his lap, holds him close, panting into the hollow of Rick’s collarbone. Negan’s a generous lover, so it’s less than a minute before he’s pulling Rick’s jeans open and tugging his cock out, tracing the swollen line of it with his forefinger.

“So pretty, Rick. So big and hard for me. Christ, the things you fucking do to me, baby. The things I’d  _let_  you do to me.”

It doesn’t take much to make Rick come. Smooth flicks of Negan’s wrist up and down his length, whispered praises in his ear, one hand rubbing up and down his back beneath his untucked shirt. Negan unzips his jacket, lets Rick spill messily onto his white shirt and licks his hand clean.

There’s a long stretch of silence after, and Negan shocks Rick by filling it with something meaningful.

“We- we’re gonna leave you all your food this week. We just need medicine. We won’t take it all, but…but we really fucking need it, Rick.”

Rick’s breath catches. “Why?”

“Something- there’s some fucking bug goin’ around the Sanctuary. People dying left right and fucking center, sometimes in just a few hours…” That tired note is back in his voice. “We lost a lot. That’s why we didn’t come by. We quarantined the place, didn’t want it spreading further than it needed to.”

Rick can hardly believe Negan is telling him this- that the Sanctuary is weak, vulnerable. He must be desperate, if he’s letting Rick see him like this.

“ _Fuck_. Of all the fucking things, Rick. It’s like the fucking flu or some shit. I just about pissed myself when I saw the first guy- thought it was fucking Ebola, he was bleeding from his fucking eyes-”

Rick sucks in a breath, the memory of the virus that swept through the prison gripping him.

He knows what it is that’s killing the Saviors. Knows how to help.

“We’ll get it under fucking control. Been working on it. Lucky I haven’t gotten it yet. One of- one of my wives…” Negan grips at Rick’s hip, and something sticks in Rick’s chest. “Would’ve wiped this shit out sooner if our fucking doctor hadn’t been one the first ones to bite it.”

Something hangs in the balance here, and Rick sees the paths laid out before him so clearly. He can withhold his help, watch the Saviors grow weaker, strike while they’re sick and vulnerable and wipe them out entirely.

Or he can save the people who have been subjugating them for the better part of a year.

Negan’s arms are around his waist and he thinks about what the man said before about people thinking with their dicks and how they weren’t fit to be in charge.

“I’ve seen this before,” he says quietly. “I know what to do.”

* * *

Nobody is exactly  _pleased_  with Rick’s decision to help the Saviors. They’re even less pleased when he, Michonne, Tara, and Aaron leave to lend a hand at the Sanctuary.

“This is a mistake, Rick,” Michonne says quietly on the drive there.

He likes to think of it as more of a risky investment. It all hinges on whether Negan is as much a man of his word as he claims to be. Rick is hesitant to say aloud that he trusts him...but he wants to hope that he can. He wants Negan to prove him right.

_“This virus, I’ve seen it before. It comes from animals, and it moves fast. Sometimes it takes a few days to kill, sometimes just hours. And it’s contagious. When I saw it before, it was when we were staying at a prison. It took out a whole cell block practically overnight.”_

_“So what the fucking fuck do we do? You gonna tell us, Rick?”_

_“If I do, if I help you, it can’t be for free.”_

_“Name your fucking price.”_

_“No more pickups.”_

_“Name a lower price, Rick. Don’t be fucking stupid.”_

_“I’m not being stupid, Negan. If you’re telling me this, then it’s bad, right? Bad enough that you’re willing to risk letting the enemy know that you’re weak.”_

_“You think of us as enemies still, Rick?”_

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“We need the medicine we’re taking from you, Rick. From what I can tell, nobody here is sick. And I swear to you, none of the people I brought with me have it. I made sure before we came.”_

_“That’s my offer. This is the last pickup. The medicine and our help. Me and some others will come back with you, help sort things out. And then you stop taking our supplies every week.”_

* * *

The Sanctuary is in bad shape. Rick’s never been there before, but the place is huge, and the sheer number of sick and quarantined people is staggering. The suffocating smell of charred flesh greets them.

“We’ve been burning the bodies out back,” Negan mutters. Rick’s tempted to ask if they always do that- burn their dead. Remembers Glenn’s insistence that they bury them- but now’s not the time to nitpick semantics like that.

When it’s all over, though- Rick will ask. If Negan truly does keep his word and their communities become more peaceful, he'll tell Negan all about Glenn, how he was good and kind right up until the end. 

The next two days are spent tending to the sick- thankfully, Tara spent enough time assisting their previous doctor, Denise, in the infirmary to know how to properly and efficiently treat the sick.

“She seems a little…new at this," Negan observes. "She’s your fucking doctor?”

Rick cuts Negan with his eyes. “I know you’re not sayin’ anything negative about the woman who’s savin’ all your lives.”

For once in his life, Negan looks abashed. “No. I- shit. Not what I meant. She’s doing great, look! She’s a hell of a woman, force of fucking nature, gift to this hellscape of a godforsaken planet, alright Rick? Just meant that-”

“I know what you meant,” Rick concedes, letting him off the hook. A little, but not all the way. “We had a doctor. Her girlfriend. Your men killed her while she and some of mine were out on the road scavenging.”

Negan has the good sense to look away, look ashamed. He watches Tara slip an IV into a woman’s arm- the woman who usually acts as Negan's bodyguard, Arat, Rick had discovered- and looks absolutely sick with himself.

“I have a whole fucking world of shit to make up for, don’t I?” He sounds utterly lost, and all it does it make Rick want to take him by the hand and guide him.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, lacing their fingers together. “But I can help with that.”

* * *

Rick spends the nights in Negan’s room. It’s luxurious, ostentatious, much like the man himself. In the drab concrete walls of the factory, he’s made himself a king. Rick would object- does, on the account of all the other people here that he just  _knows_  are probably barely scraping by.

Baby steps, he thinks. He sees the willingness to change in Negan’s eyes, and all the needs to do is coax it out of him.

Despite his reservations, the gray silk sheets feel amazing against his bare skin. Negan lays him out on them, both of them stripped down to nothing, and works Rick so slow and sweet that Rick barely knows where he is. Rick clings, grasps, can’t stay off of him, and Negan seemingly can’t get enough tonight. He fucks down into Rick, pinning his wrists against the silk-covered mattress, and less than fifteen minutes later, he’s kissing down Rick’s body, swallowing him down whole.

Negan’s always the one to croon out filthy-sweet praises to Rick, making him blush and squirm and come even faster, but he can’t talk around a mouthful of cock, so Rick takes up the mantle.

“F-fuck, Negan. Christ, that’s so good…keep goin’, baby, please,  _please_ , oh  _fuck_  yes, just like that! B-beautiful, Negan, baby, you’re beautiful,  _fuck_ , I’m- I’m gonna-”

Rick decides that Negan’s never looked as good as he does with his lips wrapped around Rick’s cock and Rick’s thighs around his head.

Negan’s face is red when he crawls back up Rick’s body, and at first he thinks it’s because he’s been choking around a dick for the last several minutes, but then Negan curls around him and nuzzles into his hair, kissing and kissing.

“Nobody’s talked to me like that in a long fucking time,” he murmurs.

It’s then that Rick realizes that he wasn’t the only one starving for something.

* * *

When the Saviors are mostly on the mend and Rick and his crew are getting ready to return to Alexandria, there’s an awkward moment where Rick thinks that Negan’s going to smirk and say, “Thanks for all the fucking help, Rick. See you guys next week for pickup.” That’s pretty clearly what Michonne and Aaron and Tara are expecting. The second night, before Negan had dragged Rick off to his room, they’d pulled him aside and told him point-blank that they didn’t buy any of it.

_“We’re here because we respect you, Rick. We respect your decisions. But we’re also here to gather intel. From what we can tell, this virus wiped out about half of them in a week. They’ve got maybe fifty, sixty people here now, and sixteen of them are in recovery. Between us, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop, if we strike now, there’s no way we can lose.”_

_“We won’t need to. We have a deal with Negan.”_

_“And the other communities that are getting their supplies stolen? What about them? What if he goes back on his word?”_

_“I’ll talk to him.”_

Rick holds his breath, looks up into Negan’s eyes.

“I’ve got a lot of shit to sort out,” Negan starts. “Lot of shit I need to set right. I’ve seen the way the three of you have been scoping this place out.” He nods to Rick’s friends. “Can’t say I fucking blame you. It's fucking smart. Haven’t give you any reason to trust me, but I’m gonna fucking change that. You see how things are here right now- we’re weak, and fuck, I invited the enemy right into our territory. Stupid fucking move, right?” He grins. “I’m doing it as a gesture of good faith. When I said no more pickups, I fucking meant it. Your people saved my ass, Rick. Not gonna pretend like I fucking deserved it, but I’m grateful. And I’m gonna work to deserve it.”

“The other communities you’re taking from,” Michonne interjects. “The Hilltop, the Kingdom. What about them?”

Negan’s not stupid, so Rick knows he can hear the underlying threat there-  _we have friends everywhere, we can tell them about this and we can fight by their side to free them, too._

“How do you know about them?” Negan asks, his voice a warning. He doesn’t like being threatened, being out of control.

“We have friends there.”  _Maggie, Sasha, Jesus, Carol, Morgan._  “We were wanting to build a kind of barter system between all of us.” Rick meets Negan’s eyes, sees the hesitation there. “It can still work. All of it. Four communities, working together. All of  _us_.”

 _Us_ , Rick thinks.  _You and me. Please._ It’s suddenly so important that Negan agrees to this plan, because it means that he’s saying yes to a lot more than trading.

Negan looks Rick up and down, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and Rick braces for the worst.

“What the hell,” Negan says instead. “Better than trying to make it on our own.”

Rick could kiss him. Doesn’t, even though he’s sure that the others know exactly what he and Negan have been doing together the past couple nights.

He feels light for the first time since that night in the woods.

* * *

Rick kisses Negan hard, full and wanting, right in the middle of his own kitchen. His front door is unlocked and Carl is upstairs reading comics with his girlfriend, Enid, and Judith is happily babbling as she plays with a tower of blocks in the living room.

He doesn’t have a worry in the whole world, not in that moment. Negan grins into it like the asshole he is, big hands smoothing over Rick’s hips and guiding him back until he’s flush with the counter.

“We gonna fuck in the kitchen, Rick?” He kisses a sweet line down Rick’s neck until his skin disappears underneath his collar. “There’s a lot of fucking jokes to make about that. Lemme fuckin’ think…is that a carrot in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

Rick rolls his eyes, his smile not even wavering for Negan’s corniness. “Why the hell would I have a carrot in my pants, Negan? That doesn’t even make any damn sense.”

“So you are happy to see me, then,” Negan purrs smugly. He kisses Rick again, and then laughs to himself against Rick’s lips. “You gonna let me make you cream-filled, Rick?”

Rick groans. “Judith’s in the living room, Negan.”

“Please stop being gross where we  _eat_.” Carl’s voice snaps them both out of their little bubble, and Rick turns, still caught in Negan’s embrace, to see his son looking at them disapprovingly. “This is why I spend so much time at the Hilltop, you know.”

He’s teasing, and when Negan throws a dishtowel at his face, there’s a shadow of a smile when he snatches it out of the air.

* * *

Negan spends all of his nights in Rick’s bed these days. He’s making amends in every way he can, his hand in Rick’s.

Rick’s never left wanting for touch anymore.


End file.
